Lullabies
by Twilight Hours
Summary: Lullabies aren't always meant to be sweet.


**author's note:** ah, just another drabble I wrote because I was in the mood for writing. not that great, but I hope you all like it anyways. (: Kingdom Hearts and it's characters do not belong to me.

**Lullabies**

When Sora lay down in bed, his mother rarely sung him lullabies. If she did, they were about kings and knights and victory.

What she did do most of the time, was tell stories. Stories about the lullabies she sung; about knights and kings and victory and princes defeating the evil sorceress and her pet dragon to claim the princess. She told him legends of past heroes and villains. She told him stories about how each different star was another world, with its own legends and heroes and mothers telling stories about this world to their sleepy yet eager sons.

Sora cherished these tales. Although he did not sing the lullabies to his friends, he often explained the stories and legends his mother told him in extreme detail and gusto. When he woke up each morning, he daydreamed off the previous night's stories and trampled to the kitchen with his wooden sword and a red sheet tied to his neck like a glorious cape, announcing his mother was _saved _because Sora was here now, don't worry, he'd vanquish the evil pancakes for her, all of them. If he found himself sitting by Kairi on the paopu tree and it was too quiet for his energetic train of thought, he'd tell her how a tale had it's own meaning and reason and moral, just so she wouldn't do something wrong, or maybe just to make her laugh, which she did often. Riku never laughed, but Sora was positive he was learning from his important stories. Each lesson taught tied in with a legend and a hero's story and _'don't do bad things or you'll end up as a villain'_.

Before Kairi went to sleep, her mother sang to her. Sometimes it was just a pacifying humming tune, which Kairi would often be caught humming as she worked on another seashell charm.

Other times, they were songs that were delicate, weaved together, played like a harp. Fairytales were put into full-length sonnets, painting pictures in the little red-head's mind of princesses being saved by handsome knights and fairies flying with magical boys and how each different star was another world, with its own fairytales and princesses and mothers singing stories about this world to their sleepy yet curious daughters.

Even after Kairi's dreams faded into bliss, her mind was always filled with the stories her mother sang to her. Even after she arrived to Destiny Islands and was adopted by a tone-deaf mayor, the rhythms and hums carefully kept themselves in a corner of her head, just behind her eyes and in her throat and on her tongue. She'd sing the lullabies to her friends when they weren't busy sparring or looking for logs and mushrooms and seagull eggs. Sometimes when she went to Sora's house for a sleepover she'd sing or hum him to sleep, and hum herself to sleep. She never managed to sing Riku to sleep because she'd fall asleep right after Sora. If she wasn't singing, she'd explain the story of how the princess was saved and there was always light and morals and _'the villain became a good guy too because he was really just misunderstood and lonely.'_

Riku's mother never told him stories. She never sung lullabies, or hummed either. Rarely ever did she even come into his room to say _goodnight_ or _I love you_ or maybe just tuck in his blanket a little tighter. What she did do was play the piano. Although it was in another room, there was a great piano that was never played during the day, and Riku wondered why but never asked. His mother played and Riku wanted to learn too but he would never ask that either.

The first time Riku heard his mother play, he thought he was dreaming. So engrossed in the music he was, that when he 'woke up' he almost cried, almost. Until his ears picked up on the delicate music playing, making him shift out of bed to creep down the hall to the grand instrument. Too afraid to break the music was he to go and sit by his mother, so instead he sank down to the floor just on the other side of the wall and closed his eyes, listening, allowing his mind to make up stories that go along with the music itself. When the melody was over he'd sneak back to his room, or if he fell asleep before it ended he always woke up in his bed again.

Sometimes the songs she played were happy, fast-paced. To this Riku imagined stories about heroes and knights and victories. Sometimes the songs were delicate, soft. To this, Riku imagined princesses and fairytales and light filling every corner with kind intentions.

More often then not, however, the songs were sad, melancholy. Almost every song, happy or delicate, had a sad edge to them. The silver-haired boy's imagination filled mostly with stories of heroes not always being strong enough, princesses saved too late, victories being empty, and light always falling short.

Other times, the sad tune would warp into something harsh, dark. _Or was it just his mind playing tricks? _The villain would destroy the hero and princess and the light always, _always _was the one to create more darkness, not destroy it. As he listened to each melody, the notes and plinks of the keys whispered into his ears of forgotten and remembered tales, sad and happy, good and bad. He took these all to heart as he slept against the wall, on the floor. And each whispered song taught him that yes, the heroes can have the victory sometimes but a lot of time life just isn't like that, and the good guys lose and no one gets saved and darkness prevails. Somewhere between the notes, he listened to a story of how each different star was another world, with its own happy and sad tunes that mother's unknowingly played to their sleepy and lonely sons.

As the lullabies in his dreams became harsher, those other worlds and stars slowly blinked out, forever taken by the darkness of his slumber.

Riku never told stories or sang lullabies to his friends or even let them listen to him play the piano. He listened to their tales, and even though his mind was clouded with doubt, it was enough for him. Maybe that's why he grew into such a solitary creature; always wanting to be near someone, always wanting to _believe_, but not quite getting there.

So, whenever Sora explained his mother's newest story, or Kairi sang him a lullaby, he would listen, but deep down he knew not all of them were true and the sad stories were just never told and _'heroes do bad things too, the villain isn't the one getting saved, and not every fairytale is a happy ending.'_

Lullabies aren't always meant to be sweet.


End file.
